“Letters from Canada 25 – Rough Start” September 2016
Susan struck a heartfelt cord recalling that moment God’s little songbird accompanied us in prayer at the grave site for Haley, a child of 11 years old who now was in Heaven with God. This miracle did not end at the cemetery. As a practice after every funeral or traumatic event, I along with volunteers from my core group of friends including Susan, try to do something nice for those that are hurting. In this case we did a follow up visits to Haley’s Mom Patricia.
During one such visit, Susan suggested that Patricia temporarily volunteer at a local hospital. The advice was followed, successfully distracting Patricia from her sadness. It wasn’t very long before Patricia was comforting a single Mother dying from cancer in the Hospital’s cancer ward.
Patricia and her new friend Ruth shared their intimate stories of heart break. For Ruth it was wondering what is going to happen to her eight year old Son Scott after she dies. For the moment Scott was being looked after by friends while Ruth was being treated. For Patricia the heartbreak was the emptiness of each day without Haley.
On one rainy day, as Patricia entered Ruth’s room, Scott was playing Chutes and Ladders, a children’s board game, with his Mom. Scott won by reaching the top of the Ladder before his Mom did. Even after Patricia joined them, Scot kept on winning. During a break, Ruth told Scott that Patricia’s daughter Haley was in Heaven with God. “Mom, Is that where you going” asked Scott? “Yes” was the tearful reply, but first I am going to make a deal with Haley’s Mom”. “Patricia, I will look after Haley in Heaven while you look after Scott on Earth. Someday we will all be together in heaven”. Scott kissed his Mom and hugged Patricia. That day Scott went home with Patricia.
Susan interrupted our flashback, reminding me of the purpose of this get together. She started with repeating her litany of why she will not return to the Catholic Church or marry a Ukrainian Catholic Priest (Letters 4, 14). Susan on many occasions told me that “even though Pope Francis sees the Catholic Church as a compassionate, comforting, forgiving, guiding, healing, generous non-judgmental Field Hospital to help Humanity, most of the Church Hierarchy and many of the clergy and faithful do not.”
“To them the Catholic Church is a very conservative institution that by the authority of God is the guardian and interpreter of scriptures, and issuer of dogmas, creator of moral rules and standards and the true representative of Jesus. There was once a moment when Pope Francis expressed frustration with His inability to make changes or adjust the direction of the Catholic Church. He used the analogy of the Church being a very big ship that cannot be easily steered. My fear is that Pope Francis’s forward progress will be regressed by his successors just as the changes, improvements, ideas, hopes and the spirt of Pope John’s XXIII Vatican II were opposed and some successfully reversed, after he died.”
Susan did not waste any time repeating some of her objections to marrying me as a Catholic priest. For starters there is the competition among priests for wealthier parishes that can better provide financial support for their wives and children. From there the problems get more complicated such as transferring priests with children in school to a different location where they are needed. But most important to her is the situation where women are not equal to men or play an influential role in the Catholic Church (Letters 4).
Susan continued with: "How can you be a dedicated God's worker in a Church where you have limited support from the Church Hierarchy because of your liberal positions on teachings and policies. If it wasn't for a saintly Bishop Cornelius always coming to your defense, you would have already been expelled or transferred to a congregation in the Arctic. Bishop Cornelius may retire in the near future and then what?"
At this junction Susan stared into my eyes and emphatically demanded that I reveal to her “why I do not voluntarily walk away from serving this institution as a Catholic priest knowing that eventually I will be hurt or rejected" with the emphasis on NO “shepherd and sheep” stories (Letters 10).
Up to now, the only one who was aware of my intimate childhood and young adult life story was God. If I was ever to share it with someone else it would only be with someone I love, trust, and could understand without passing judgement. That someone was always Susan. Now was the opportunity and my story begins.
“Susan, the story of my normal childhood and upbringing on my parent’s farm that I shared with you, my congregation and all my friends is not true. As far as I can remember, I struggled with both physical and mental handicaps. A poor digestive system prevented my muscles from developing resulting in a feeble physical body. Being born with crossed eyes impaired my vision which led to a serious reading and learning disability in school. Even though not a medical person, as a young adult, I diagnosed myself with dyslexia, poor memory and a physical weakling”.
“My physical and learning problems were just the beginning of many challenges both in school and home. Most of my teachers passed me from grade to grade with low grades so they would not have to deal with me. During sports, peers picked me last for their team, if at all. For bullies, I was an easy target.”
“At home things were not that much better. Lack of physical strength, prevented me from arduous chores on the farm. At the center of two major accidents on our farm relegated me to cleaning manure in the barns and pig pens”. “What kind of accidents” piped Susan?
“On a public road, I was hauling a large water tank with a tractor for cattle grazing in a remote field. Car traffic passing me on my left scared me off the road into a ditch overturning both the tractor and the water tank. No one was hurt, including the passengers in a car that crashed into water tank. In the second accident, I shifted into a wrong gear of a pickup truck and darted through barn doors scaring a lot of cows. Needless to say from then on, my only means of transportation was a bicycle. I screwed up many more times, but not as serious.”
“To my father, I was a total failure, and in non-sober moments he yelled at me in harsh words his disappointment. My Mother and older Sister did all their power to protect and shelter me. They noticed that every night I prayed before going to bed and on summer morning, biked my way to church to serve Mass. Together they conspired to influence me to enter the seminary and study to become a priest. Sadly, my father who treated me as a burden was happy that I was leaving home”.
“The Seminary turned out to be another hell. The Master of Novices, Father Basil, a brilliant but psychologically unbalanced priest, viewed me as someone’s family reject dumped at his doorstep to live an easy and cushion life. Instead of directly expelling me from the Seminary, his approach was to make my life unbearable so that I would leave voluntarily. Harsh punishments such as long hours of solitary confinement, cleaning all toilets, and endless kneeling were dealt out for not turning out lights when leaving a room, tracking grass clipping into a class room or not perfectly dusting a staircase. The most grievous offence was not reporting a verbal sexual utterance by a peer”. “Tell me more” a perked up Susan asked.
“Not much to tell here. A few of the Seminarians under my direction were weeding the flower garden, cutting the grass, and trimming bushes. Towards the end of our work assignment, I ask everyone “How are you making out”. One of our newer Seminarians responded with “Get me a girl (he used a vulgar synonym for girl) and I will show you how to make out”. Unbeknownst to us, Father Basil was listening to our conversations from behind one of the bushes.”
That evening after supper, I went to Father Basil for our next work assignment. He started out with simple questions like; “Did your team finish the yard work? Did you encounter any problems?” Follow by in a more serious tone, “did anyone say or do anything to upset you? Is there anything you should report to me?” Hesitantly I reply with an OK for the work and a NO for the report. In a subdued angry voice he asked me “if I knew how to make out”. I stood there trembling with a sinking feeling this was not good.
“The new Seminarian was given only a warning to change his behavior. My punishment was kneeling in the lunch room during mealtimes asking for forgiveness from everyone chopping on their dinners. I survived this and other more demeaning physiological abuses”.
Again Susan interrupted with: “Why did you not leave? How did you survive? The person I am facing right now in front of me cannot be the same person in this story!”
To be continued: “Letters From Canada 26 – Best Friend”
November 2016
Susan struck a heartfelt cord recalling that moment God’s little songbird accompanied us in prayer at the grave site for Haley, a child of 11 years old who now was in Heaven with God. This miracle did not end at the cemetery. As a practice after every funeral or traumatic event, I along with volunteers from my core group of friends including Susan, try to do something nice for those that are hurting. In this case we did a follow up visits to Haley’s Mom Patricia.
During one such visit, Susan suggested that Patricia temporarily volunteer at a local hospital. The advice was followed, successfully distracting Patricia from her sadness. It wasn’t very long before Patricia was comforting a single Mother dying from cancer in the Hospital’s cancer ward.
Patricia and her new friend Ruth shared their intimate stories of heart break. For Ruth it was wondering what is going to happen to her eight year old Son Scott after she dies. For the moment Scott was being looked after by friends while Ruth was being treated. For Patricia the heartbreak was the emptiness of each day without Haley.
On one rainy day, as Patricia entered Ruth’s room, Scott was playing Chutes and Ladders, a children’s board game, with his Mom. Scott won by reaching the top of the Ladder before his Mom did. Even after Patricia joined them, Scot kept on winning. During a break, Ruth told Scott that Patricia’s daughter Haley was in Heaven with God. “Mom, Is that where you going” asked Scott? “Yes” was the tearful reply, but first I am going to make a deal with Haley’s Mom”. “Patricia, I will look after Haley in Heaven while you look after Scott on Earth. Someday we will all be together in heaven”. Scott kissed his Mom and hugged Patricia. That day Scott went home with Patricia.
Susan interrupted our flashback, reminding me of the purpose of this get together. She started with repeating her litany of why she will not return to the Catholic Church or marry a Ukrainian Catholic Priest (Letters 4, 14). Susan on many occasions told me that “even though Pope Francis sees the Catholic Church as a compassionate, comforting, forgiving, guiding, healing, generous non-judgmental Field Hospital to help Humanity, most of the Church Hierarchy and many of the clergy and faithful do not.”
“To them the Catholic Church is a very conservative institution that by the authority of God is the guardian and interpreter of scriptures, and issuer of dogmas, creator of moral rules and standards and the true representative of Jesus. There was once a moment when Pope Francis expressed frustration with His inability to make changes or adjust the direction of the Catholic Church. He used the analogy of the Church being a very big ship that cannot be easily steered. My fear is that Pope Francis’s forward progress will be regressed by his successors just as the changes, improvements, ideas, hopes and the spirt of Pope John’s XXIII Vatican II were opposed and some successfully reversed, after he died.”
Susan did not waste any time repeating some of her objections to marrying me as a Catholic priest. For starters there is the competition among priests for wealthier parishes that can better provide financial support for their wives and children. From there the problems get more complicated such as transferring priests with children in school to a different location where they are needed. But most important to her is the situation where women are not equal to men or play an influential role in the Catholic Church (Letters 4).
Susan continued with: "How can you be a dedicated God's worker in a Church where you have limited support from the Church Hierarchy because of your liberal positions on teachings and policies. If it wasn't for a saintly Bishop Cornelius always coming to your defense, you would have already been expelled or transferred to a congregation in the Arctic. Bishop Cornelius may retire in the near future and then what?"
At this junction Susan stared into my eyes and emphatically demanded that I reveal to her “why I do not voluntarily walk away from serving this institution as a Catholic priest knowing that eventually I will be hurt or rejected" with the emphasis on NO “shepherd and sheep” stories (Letters 10).
Up to now, the only one who was aware of my intimate childhood and young adult life story was God. If I was ever to share it with someone else it would only be with someone I love, trust, and could understand without passing judgement. That someone was always Susan. Now was the opportunity and my story begins.
“Susan, the story of my normal childhood and upbringing on my parent’s farm that I shared with you, my congregation and all my friends is not true. As far as I can remember, I struggled with both physical and mental handicaps. A poor digestive system prevented my muscles from developing resulting in a feeble physical body. Being born with crossed eyes impaired my vision which led to a serious reading and learning disability in school. Even though not a medical person, as a young adult, I diagnosed myself with dyslexia, poor memory and a physical weakling”.
“My physical and learning problems were just the beginning of many challenges both in school and home. Most of my teachers passed me from grade to grade with low grades so they would not have to deal with me. During sports, peers picked me last for their team, if at all. For bullies, I was an easy target.”
“At home things were not that much better. Lack of physical strength, prevented me from arduous chores on the farm. At the center of two major accidents on our farm relegated me to cleaning manure in the barns and pig pens”. “What kind of accidents” piped Susan?
“On a public road, I was hauling a large water tank with a tractor for cattle grazing in a remote field. Car traffic passing me on my left scared me off the road into a ditch overturning both the tractor and the water tank. No one was hurt, including the passengers in a car that crashed into water tank. In the second accident, I shifted into a wrong gear of a pickup truck and darted through barn doors scaring a lot of cows. Needless to say from then on, my only means of transportation was a bicycle. I screwed up many more times, but not as serious.”
“To my father, I was a total failure, and in non-sober moments he yelled at me in harsh words his disappointment. My Mother and older Sister did all their power to protect and shelter me. They noticed that every night I prayed before going to bed and on summer morning, biked my way to church to serve Mass. Together they conspired to influence me to enter the seminary and study to become a priest. Sadly, my father who treated me as a burden was happy that I was leaving home”.
“The Seminary turned out to be another hell. The Master of Novices, Father Basil, a brilliant but psychologically unbalanced priest, viewed me as someone’s family reject dumped at his doorstep to live an easy and cushion life. Instead of directly expelling me from the Seminary, his approach was to make my life unbearable so that I would leave voluntarily. Harsh punishments such as long hours of solitary confinement, cleaning all toilets, and endless kneeling were dealt out for not turning out lights when leaving a room, tracking grass clipping into a class room or not perfectly dusting a staircase. The most grievous offence was not reporting a verbal sexual utterance by a peer”. “Tell me more” a perked up Susan asked.
“Not much to tell here. A few of the Seminarians under my direction were weeding the flower garden, cutting the grass, and trimming bushes. Towards the end of our work assignment, I ask everyone “How are you making out”. One of our newer Seminarians responded with “Get me a girl (he used a vulgar synonym for girl) and I will show you how to make out”. Unbeknownst to us, Father Basil was listening to our conversations from behind one of the bushes.”
That evening after supper, I went to Father Basil for our next work assignment. He started out with simple questions like; “Did your team finish the yard work? Did you encounter any problems?” Follow by in a more serious tone, “did anyone say or do anything to upset you? Is there anything you should report to me?” Hesitantly I reply with an OK for the work and a NO for the report. In a subdued angry voice he asked me “if I knew how to make out”. I stood there trembling with a sinking feeling this was not good.
“The new Seminarian was given only a warning to change his behavior. My punishment was kneeling in the lunch room during mealtimes asking for forgiveness from everyone chopping on their dinners. I survived this and other more demeaning physiological abuses”.
Again Susan interrupted with: “Why did you not leave? How did you survive? The person I am facing right now in front of me cannot be the same person in this story!”
To be continued: “Letters From Canada 26 – Best Friend”
November 2016
